That Don't Impress Me Much
by BathshebaRocks
Summary: Eric and Sookie travel to Europe on a vampire PR mission - can he use music to persuade her that he really cares about her.  This is an out-take from the canon, set between the Rhodes summit and the Nevada takeover.  Now complete in two chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_**There are really three people to thank for this story: GaijinVamp kindly read both chapters, although all mistakes are mine. ** **Natali K-J**__** and I spent a very lively evening searching 'Spotify' for the Scandinavian records, and finally VicVega66 made a quite invaluable contribution to the final shape of the story with her suggestions on Eric's choices, and improvements to the dialogue**_

_The characters of Eric Northman and Sookie Stackhouse belong to Charlaine Harris, and _'_Desert Island Discs' was created by the late Roy Plomley for BBC Radio 4_

**Early October 2005**

The Anubis Air Gulfstream 550 was 40,000 feet over Greenland when Eric Northman emerged from his travel coffin and made his way to the passenger cabin. It was the closest he had been to the land of his ancestors for several hundred years.

He was the last of the vampire on board to rise. His companions had already been served their Royalty blend, or were feeding from their personal blood donors. He wasn't surprised to see that Felipe de Castro, King of Nevada, had his fangs deep in the neck of a particularly lovely young flight attendant. Russell Edgington sat with his human companion, Talbot, who was making not the slightest effort to disguise the act of fellatio he was performing on the king. No one was paying them any attention.

Sophie-Anne Leclerq should have been on the flight with her fellow monarchs, but she was still recovering from the horrors of the Rhodes bombing. She had tried to attribute her non-attendance to her terrible grief at the loss of her child Andre, knowing that if word of her physical weakness were to spread it would leave her vulnerable to anyone wishing to mount a takeover of her queendom. Eric still wasn't sure why he had been included in the party in her place. He might be a big fish in the small pond that was northern Louisiana, but on the national stage he was way down the pecking order. It would have made more sense to replace Sophie Anne with another monarch, the King of central California perhaps, or the Queen of New York.

He knew why he'd accepted though; the reason was sitting towards the front of the luxury cabin, her blonde hair shining under the subdued lights. He was pleased to see that the seat next to her was vacant. She looked up from her magazine as he slid in beside her, unable to hide a brief smile, which quickly turned to a scowl. Damn him if he didn't always have that effect on her, she thought, just by being close. She hadn't asked for it and she didn't want it, she tried to convince herself, even as she felt her temperature rise a notch or two from the effect of his presence.

"Was the take-off okay?" he asked, reaching for her hand.

"Uh-huh" she said, non-committedly. She hated flying, as he well knew. The flight attendant had kept her glass topped up with champagne and she had managed to keep her fear under control. Eric could sense it though. He had the strongest urge to put an arm around her shoulder, to rest her head against his chest and let the scent of her hair soothe him. Before he could give into that temptation, a low breathy voice sounded from behind him.

"Glad you could join us, Sheriff Northman. I've brought your itinerary." Norma-Jean had been drafted in at short notice as PR coordinator for the trip. She thrust a folder unceremoniously into Eric's free hand.

He gave a snort of disgust as he read the sheet in front of him. They had three nights in London and it appeared that the whole of Monday night would be taken up with a round of media interviews. The publication titles didn't exactly sound like the quality press either: '_More_', '_Heat'_, '_OK'._

Tuesday would include a photo-shoot for the UK edition of GQ. He noted the name of the photographer with approval; at least it would be tasteful. The next item made him groan. He was going to be a guest on a radio show; he would be interviewed about his life, and would have to choose eight records that were significant to him. That left Wednesday night as the only free time he would have before the party returned to the US.

"What's wrong?" Sookie asked as his grip on her hand tightened.

"This schedule," he snapped. "I'm expected to be interviewed and have my photograph taken." He sounded as if it was a new and foreign concept to him.

Sookie reached up to stroke his hair. He seemed genuinely put out and she couldn't resist the urge to comfort him.

"Poor baby," she laughed.

"I really don't see the humor in the situation."

"Didn't they warn you in advance?"

"No, I….." He didn't quite know how to explain himself. For the first time in many centuries he had jumped feet first into a situation without even the most basic checks. It was the kind of action that could have got him killed in earlier times. "I was only asked to join this trip at the last minute. There was not time for a full briefing." He lowered his voice and leant a little closer to her. "To be honest I'm not entirely sure what the purpose of this little jaunt really is."

"I know that," she lowered her voice to a whisper too, hoping that most of the other vampires on board were too engrossed in their various pleasures to overhear her. "Talbot gave the game away, of course. Russell tells him everything, and he's a very strong broadcaster. The kings have a secret meeting planned with a delegation from the European Union. They want to try to have the European Declaration of Human Rights extended to vampires." Sookie couldn't claim to be a student of politics, but even she knew that vampires were still having a difficult time of it in some of the southern and eastern European countries.

"They're worried about the backlash when the news gets out, so it was decided that diversions were needed. Russell and Talbot are going to be demonstrating that vampire-human relationships can be successful."

"Russell and Talbot?" Eric repeated, incredulously.

"Honestly, Eric, don't you pay any attention to the world outside Louisiana?" Sookie made no attempt to disguise how much she enjoyed getting a rise out of him. "They love their gay celebrities in the UK: Elton John, George Michael, Stephen Fry, Matt Lucas." She didn't actually recognize all the names, but she'd read the PR briefing notes carefully.

"What about me?" he said, sounding just a little concerned.

"You have been included for the ladies. You're big news worldwide now you know. That footage of the rescue got onto YouTube, and the interest has just exploded. Surely Pam told you how many re-prints of the Fangtasia calendar they've had to do. Just try searching 'Mr. January' on the Internet and you'll see what I mean."

Eric snorted in disgust. Pam had, of course, taken great delight in showing him some of the 'Eric Northman' fan websites which had popped up.

"Why did you agree to come, Sookie?" he asked, keen to change the subject, "I thought after Rhodes you were done with vampire politics."

"I need the money; they're paying generously, and I've received a retainer upfront." She tried not to sound bitter about the money that Sophie-Anne still owed her. "Also I wanted to lie low for a while, there have been people sniffing around Bon Temps, Government people. If word of my, uh, disability, gets to the ears of the FBI or the CIA I really don't want to think about the consequences."

What she wouldn't admit to Eric was that the deciding factor had been the inclusion of her were tiger boyfriend Quinn as PR coordinator for the trip. He had promised to take her on to Paris afterwards so they could have some quality time together. Then at the last minute he had cried off, blaming some family crisis or other.

Eric considered her words, all the while stroking the palm of her hand. Sookie tried to ignore the waves of electricity he was sending shooting up her arm, and down to other places.

"So, what records are you going to choose for this radio show?" she asked, in an attempt to regain control of the situation.

Norma-Jean was sashaying back up the aisle as she spoke. "Nothing controversial please, Sheriff," she butted in. "A few obvious choices, some spicy anecdotes, that's all we're expecting. I've given them a list of no-go topics."

Eric nodded grimly, while Sookie tried her hardest not to stare at the woman. Meeting the vampire now known as 'Bubba' had been enough of a shock. She wondered how many other legendary figures were hiding amongst the un-dead.

"You have to have _'You're So Vain'_," she said, giving Eric a playful pat on the thigh. "Or how about '_Sympathy for the Devil?_'"

"No, too obvious. The Rolling Stones should be on the list though. I should choose some classical music as well, opera perhaps."

"You've never told me you like opera." Sookie sounded hurt. There was no reason he should have told her, but it brought back painful memories of how Bill had made her feel like a small-town hick when he'd taken Portia Bellefleur to see a symphony orchestra.

"I could take you one day, if you like?" Pam had told him more than once that he should take Sookie on a proper date; this was the perfect opportunity.

"I'd like that," she said, rewarding him with a smile.

It struck him then that he could perhaps turn this situation to his advantage. He needed a way to show Sookie that he was more than just the manipulative vampire politician. He wanted her to see the man behind the vampire. Perhaps his choice of records would give him the opportunity. Then there was that third night they would have together in London. He would ask Norma-Jean to order some tickets for a show for them, perhaps even the opera, provided it was something romantic.

They spent the rest of the flight suggesting and rejecting records, so engrossed that Sookie had to be reminded to buckle up her seatbelt as the plane began its descent to Heathrow. Eric put his arm around her, allowing her to press her face into his shoulder.

"Don't worry, everything is going to be fine. I'm here for you," he whispered.

**

* * *

Broadcasting House, London, two nights later **

"I think he must have arrived." Kirsty and her producer Leanne were sitting in the office doing a final run-through of the interview questions. The high-pitched cries of a crowd of screaming women and girls penetrated through the sixth floor windows.

"It's worse than when we had George Clooney on." Leanne laughed.

"How do you think they knew we were recording tonight? We certainly didn't make it public."

"Who knows, maybe his people leaked it. You've seen the websites, he has his own fan-club now, tracking his every move."

Kirsty tried to concentrate on the questions they had sketched out, but the words seemed to dance in front of her eyes. She wasn't normally this nervous. She had interviewed the great and the good from all walks of life, from top politicians and intellectuals to pop stars and actors, and had built up something of a reputation for being able to get them to open up on air.

She couldn't understand why she was quite so apprehensive. She'd met vampires. No London party could be considered really fashionable if it didn't have at least one or two un-dead guests. She had never been alone in the same room as one though, unless you counted the weird experience when she had allowed a particularly sophisticated French vamp to kiss her hand and had come to in a dark and silent upstairs corridor.

That experience had left her a little wary. Her boss had offered a security guard to sit in with them, but it would ruin the atmosphere. Leanne would be behind the glass, but if Mr. Northman turned nasty she wouldn't stand a chance.

Gathering up her papers, she set off down to the Green Room to greet her guest. She liked to get to spend a little time together before the recording. It helped with the chemistry, she found. It took her all of five seconds after entering the room to realize that chemistry would need no help at all with this guest. She was a happily married woman, she had to remind herself, as he stretched himself lazily on the low couch, then rose to his full, impressive, height. The briefing notes had warned her not to offer physical contact, so she compensated with her most brilliant smile.

His presence was so overwhelming that it took her a moment to realize there was someone else in the room. The golden glow of the woman's skin made it clear she was no vampire. That was confirmed when she offered her hand in greeting to Kirsty.

"This is Sookie Stackhouse, she's my aide." Eric said brusquely. "She has never been in a radio studio before so I agreed that she could accompany me. I hope that is acceptable." Sookie's enthusiasm for attending the recording was the only thing that made the prospect of the forthcoming ordeal bearable. Her zest for life had been one of the things that had drawn him to her, and he couldn't help but regret how it had been dimmed by the events of the last few months.

"We don't normally have visitors, but I'm sure we could make an exception. Would you be okay sitting in the producer's booth with Leanne?" she asked, turning to Sookie, who nodded her agreement.

She did her best not to show it, but Kirsty was puzzled. The woman was dressed smartly enough in a flattering light grey tweed dress that she was sure was from Alexander McQueen's autumn collection. She didn't have that intimidating superiority of a true _fashionista_ though; her smile and greeting were too warm and genuine. Behind her grey-blue eyes, Kirsty sensed a sharp intelligence. Eric Northman's profile hadn't mentioned a significant other, but there was definitely something between them.

She dismissed the thought; it was none of her business. She turned her attention back to her guest. "Thank you for agreeing to come on the show. You're our first ever Vampire guest you know."

"Does England not have its own celebrity vampires?"

"We do, but no-one as high profile as you," she admitted. They were mainly z-list refugees from_ Big Brother_, and _Britain's Got Talent_, desperate to prolong their pathetic moment in the limelight.

Eric shrugged. "It wasn't exactly my choice," he said, coldly. He was bored with the media circus already.

Kirsty looked up at him, raising an eyebrow in a gesture of surprise, as Leanne came into the room to hurry them down to the studio.

"I spent the whole of last night answering dumb questions from even dumber interviewers," he continued, making it abundantly clear that he was expecting more of the same.

Kirsty sighed. It had been such a coup to get Eric Northman on the show. It was the only broadcast interview he was going to do in the UK – he had even turned down Jonathan Ross, which had made her very happy indeed. He obviously wasn't going to make things easy for her though.

They reached the studio and settled themselves down.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

The red recording light came on.

Putting on her best radio voice, with just a hint of a soft Scottish burr, Kirsty began the familiar introduction to the show.

"My castaway this week is Eric Northman. It's been over five years since vampires announced their presence amongst humans, but the interest in their lives and loves hasn't diminished. If anything it has grown stronger. In the last year my guest has become one of the most recognizable vampires in the United States. The tragic events in Rhodes last month brought him international attention. Now a businessman in Louisiana, in his human life he was a Viking in tenth century Sweden."

"So, Eric Northman, I have to ask what it's like to be the centre of so much attention after centuries of secrecy?"

"Well you know it's a tough job, but someone's got to do it." He gave a self-depreciating laugh.

Kirsty glanced up at Leanne who was rolling her eyes. He was definitely trying to make this hard work. Eric on the other hand was delighted to have discomfited her so early in the show.

"Seriously, I still find it quite strange." He continued, changing his tone to appear more modest. "I'm just a small business owner from a small city in Louisiana. I never set out to be a celebrity, and it seems odd that people are interested in me and my life."

It was Kirsty's turn to smirk. Now she had met him in the flesh, she understood the interest only too well.

"So would you enjoy the peace of a desert island?"

"I wouldn't miss the attention, or the politics, but I'd miss the people close to me." He kept his gaze firmly fixed on his interviewer, although his thoughts were elsewhere in the room.

"As you know, we let you take eight records with you, as well as a book and a luxury item. I think some people will be surprised at your first choice of record."

Eric paused briefly before replying. Sookie had been joking when she suggested including the record on his list. She'd teased him with an off-key rendition of the lyrics:

'_I can't believe that you kiss your car goodnight_

_Come on baby tell me, you must be joking, right?'_

It was ridiculous. He hated this kind of music, but recently whenever he heard it he felt the strangest sensation of contentment. A memory of a time he couldn't actually remember. He wasn't going to admit to any of this on air of course. He had come up with a much more prosaic explanation.

"Yes, I've chosen Shania Twain. This kind of music is very popular where I live now; you hear it all the time playing in bars and on the radio. I don't expect to be homesick on the island, I've lived too long and travelled too far for that, but if I were, this record would certainly transport me instantly to Shreveport."

"So do you feel you've found a place to call home?"

"I hope so, at least for a while." As Leanne cued in the song, his eyes darted briefly to the producer's booth, where Sookie was singing along.

"_That don't impress me much_," she mouthed, wagging a finger at him in mock admonishment.

"Your second choice is quite a contrast." Kirsty said hurriedly; keen to move the conversation on.

"Yes, this is a very old memory from my human life. Modern musicians have recreated the music, but it is a remarkably accurate rendition of an old song. It is called '_Du ar sa vacker for mina ogon'_, which translates as '_You are beautiful in my eyes_'. I like to listen to it while I bathe as it helps me relax; it's really quite beautiful if you know old Swedish."

Kirsty noticed once again that brief glance towards the booth, almost too quick for a human to register. She was aware of an undercurrent. If she hadn't known better she would have been sure he was playing with her, as a cat would with a mouse.

A click on the computer and the song began. The silence in the studio was complete as the haunting tones of the singer filled the room. Eric was perfectly still and, for the first time, Kirsty was aware that he was not breathing.

Sookie was thoughtful as she watched him. He hadn't translated the title when he'd chosen the song. It was a sweet gesture, she thought, and quite unexpected. She couldn't help but feel just a little warmer towards him.

Eric snapped back to attention as the record faded out, and Kirsty moved onto the next question.

"Do you think about your human life often?"

"No, very rarely actually. I've learnt to live in the present. I found out the hard way that there is no point in dwelling on the past, or worrying about the future so I stay firmly in the here and now."

"But you do remember your Viking life. You've spoken about it in interviews."

"I remember everything about my human life and my vampire existence. I've accepted the inevitability of people's interest, especially in Sweden of course. I am proud of my ancestry, and it's important to me that people get a fuller picture of what our lives were like. There have been so many myths. Not to mention bad movies," he gave a derisive snort.

"So is music important to you?"

"I hadn't really thought about it before I was invited to come on this show," he said, truthfully. "Amongst my businesses I run a nightclub so I am surrounded by music, some good and some bad. I need to keep in touch with what my customers are listening to. I have a selection on my iPod of course, and I do like to listen to music while I'm driving."

Kirsty exchanged a glance with Leanne. Sookie smiled, she could see the image they both had in their minds, of Eric driving along the interstate in a sports car with the hood down, his long blond hair flowing in the wind. Perhaps she should reveal his weakness for singing along to nineteen-eighties power ballads. That would bring him down a notch or two in the 'Mr. Cool' stakes.

"Was it hard to narrow down your choice to eight records?"

"Some just chose themselves. Selecting artists from the twentieth century was the most difficult. Before then, most people didn't really hear a great variety of music. Until it could be recorded and preserved you were limited to hearing songs sung and played in the home, or attending concerts if you were well to do. Now of course there are thousands of songs and singers to choose from."

"Your next selection is from Mozart's 'Don Giovanni'. Tell us about that."

"I think that of all the eras I have lived through, the European courts of the eighteenth century were the most memorable. People talk nowadays about the super-rich and conspicuous consumption now, but there is no one alive today who could compare with Louis XIV of France."

"The Sun King," Kirsty interjected by way of explanation.

"Yes. I spent several years at his court. I used to move between England, France, Spain, and Italy during those years. I couldn't stay in any one place too long, a few years at most before people would start to ask questions. There were many Swedish mercenaries in Europe at that time, and our fighting skills were greatly prized, so I would just return with a new identity once most of the people who might remember me were dead. It did help that life expectancies were so much shorter."

"People imagine that vampires spent centuries living in hiding, in dark caves, but it wasn't like that."

"No, as I've said, you shouldn't believe everything you see in the movies," Eric laughed. "You had to exercise caution of course. Some of our kind who were careless found themselves accused of witchcraft. Anything that got you thrown into jail was an instant death sentence. If you were careful though, there were plenty of jobs you could take which only required you to come out at night. I was a warder in your Tower of London for five years, working the torture chamber." He grinned, and all three women shuddered. It didn't take much to imagine him enjoying his work.

"So is the choice of Don Giovanni a reflection of your reputation as a womanizer?"

"You have quite misunderstood the meaning of the Opera," he said coldly. "It is about revenge and deception; it acts as a warning, not an encouragement."

"_I have to tell you, he is now the picture of innocence_," Kirsty joked, trying to retrieve the situation with a direct address to the listeners. She could see Sookie and Leanne giggling in the producer's booth.

Her attention reverted to her guest. "I agree, there is a darkness in Mozart's work; a sense of foreboding. Do you think that is part of his greatness?"

Eric was thoughtful for a moment. It was a question he hadn't anticipated, and hadn't prepared for, but he quickly recovered himself. "It is a reflection of the times. On the one hand you still had the rich and powerful courts where people believed they were the masters of the universe, to use a modern phrase. On the other, it was impossible to ignore the signs of the coming upheaval if you paid attention to the wider world. I think he reflects that in his music."

"Did you ever meet him?"

"Yes, once, at the court of the Emperor Joseph II of Austria."

"You must have been aware, even then, of his enduring genius. Was there not a temptation to turn him and preserve it?" Kirsty asked, hoping she had the terminology correct.

"Who says we didn't," Eric shot back. "It is not always a good idea though; having to keep yourself hidden, and not being able to use your talents, can lead to madness." He thought of poor, brain-addled Bubba, shunted from place to place like an unwanted parcel.

"You must have known so many people who now have legendary status. There are many rumors circulating on the Internet about the women you have had affairs with: Marie Antoinette, Catherine the Great, Mary Queen of Scots?"

Eric was ready for this. Norma-Jean's preparation had been nothing if not thorough, and she had checked out every website where he might be mentioned. They had agreed on a topic which would generate some headlines, but avoid any diplomatic incidents.

"I did know your Queen Elizabeth the First. She was a very special woman." He gave Sookie a dazzling smile, pleased he had warned her that this would come up. He didn't want his words to make her feel insecure, that wouldn't serve his purpose at all. The look on Kirsty's face made it clear that he would have to say more though.

"I know what an icon she is to the British."

"English." Kirsty corrected him. As a Scot she couldn't let that one pass.

"Sorry, to the English. I've rarely met a braver woman, or a more arrogant one. I offered to turn her you know, but she refused. I'm sure she was tempted, but she was too vain. She couldn't face eternity with the face and body of a forty-year old."

That wasn't strictly true. He had most unpleasant memories of her forcing him to pleasure her pox-ridden, balding form, on pain of final death.

Leanne was looking meaningfully at the studio clock, forcing Kirsty to move on to the question. "Tell us about your next choice."

"One of the positive things about being alone on the island would be that I could play anything I liked, loudly, with no-one complaining about it. So I think I will have some Wagner. I know he is unfashionable nowadays, but 'The Ring' Cycle is perfect for me. This selection is from the Prologue to the final part of the cycle: the _Gotterdammerung_. It is the love scene between Siegfried and Brunhilde. I don't think people realize that undying love is one of the great themes of this opera."

He had tried to convince Pam of that once, forcing her to watch a live performance that he had taped. She had laughed so hard that by the beginning of Act Two she had fallen off the sofa. "My God," she had giggled, "fat opera singers with horned hats bellowing about doomed love for three hours, I'm not surprised they killed themselves."

After that reaction he had never shared his passion with another soul.

"Your next choice is Johnny Cash singing '_Hurt_' from the 'American' series of recordings. Is this a song that has personal meaning for you?"

"The 'American' series is a fine set of recordings, but I think of all of them, this song is the most moving. I do understand the nature of obsession. When you're caught in its grip you just have to pursue your chosen course of action, without a care for the consequences."

He stopped abruptly, the set of his face making it clear that he had no intention continuing down that train of thought. Leanne cued in the track, and the gravelly voice of an old man approaching death filled the studio: '_Everyone I know goes away in the end. You can have it all, my empire of dirt, I will let you down, I will leave you hurt_.'

Eric watched Sookie carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. If he ever succeeded in persuading her to take him as her lover again, he knew it would bring her danger. He would do everything he could to protect her, but there was always the risk that she would be hurt by her exposure to supernatural politics. He had to be honest with her if he was to win her trust.

She had no hope of even beginning to get underneath the surface of this guest, Kirsty reflected as the song faded. She could have interviewed him for a whole day and still not get through all the topics she wanted to cover.

"There are just so many things I would love to ask you about, but we have to move on to your next record. You've chosen The Rolling Stones."

"Yes, I was in New York in 1964. I saw them at Carnegie Hall on their first US tour. I knew straight away they were going to be something special, even though at that time they still had few songs of their own and still relied on cover versions."

"You hung out with them?" Kirsty asked, unable to keep the awe-struck tone out of her voice. If only she could get him to open up, there must be such stories to tell.

Eric's response was characteristically cool. "I spent some time with them yes," he said, blandly. "They were good company and interesting people."

"That's rather an understatement!"

He smiled but refused to pursue the topic. The first chords of '_Let it Bleed'_ brought back clear memories. He was sitting with Keith one night as he strummed idly on his guitar. "I could make you vampire if you want, it would suit you," he had offered.

Keith had fixed him with his peculiar, wild-eyed start and waved his nicotine stained fingers vaguely in his direction. "I'm already a vampire, man," he'd drawled. "The only difference between you and me is that I can walk in daylight." He'd taken a slug of vodka, direct from the bottle, waving it at Eric in an ironic salute. "Besides, I get to drink the real nectar of life!"

"For your seventh record, you've chosen Louis Armstrong, is he someone you admired?"

"He sums up the spirit of New Orleans. The city has always been a special place for me. It was where I lived when I first arrived in the US. I chose this in memory of those of our kind, and the humans, who died in Hurricane Katrina." He hated political correctness, but Norma-Jean had insisted on some reference to the tragedy which still dominated life in Louisiana.

He noticed Sookie turning just a little pink as the music started. They had agreed that Louis Armstrong would be a good choice, but he hadn't let on to her what the song was going to be.

'_Stars shining bright above you_

_Night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'_

_Birds singing in the sycamore trees_

_Dream a little dream of me_'

"You've said that you don't think a lot about the past, but your choices have been quite reflective, do you think there is a contradiction there?"

"I've said I don't dwell on the past, that doesn't mean I don't think about it. I have a lot of good memories. I've been very lucky with the places I've been and the people I've met. I wouldn't want to forget any of them. Besides, I'm not always serious. I think people who know me well would say I had a sense of humor." He looked to Sookie for affirmation, and was rewarded with a broad grin.

'_He does,'_ she mouthed through the glass which separated the producer's booth from the studio.

"Would you say your final choice is evidence of your less serious side?"

"My last choice is completely selfish. It's the kind of record I would never inflict on anyone else, even on a bad day. For me though, it recreates the essence of Viking, especially if you watch the video that goes with it. I know my people had a bad reputation, and some of it was deserved, but we really knew how to party. There just aren't many people nowadays who can drink like a Viking. It's actually a Finnish band called Finntroll. The song is called _Trollhammeren_. I suggest your listeners watch the video on YouTube if they want to get the idea."

"So we now come to the point when I give you the Bible and the Complete Works of Shakespeare to take, but you can have one other book of your choice."

"Well firstly I should say that I'm not a Christian, so I would rather have a book of Norse mythology, if that is acceptable to you?"

He would actually have preferred a subscription to the 'Wall Street Journal', and a Blackberry, so he could run his businesses remotely, but Norma-Jean had insisted that he pick something romantic and interesting.

"In addition I would take 'The Prince' by Machiavelli. It was recommended to me by ….well I should probably not say who by, but I was advised that I need to improve my political skills. I will reflect on that while I'm on the island."

"And one luxury item, which you're not allowed to use to escape or to communicate with the outside world."

"I was going to ask for a blood donor, but that's a necessity really," he smirked.

Kirsty glared meaningfully at Leanne. They would definitely be cutting that comment out.

"We will provide you with a light-tight cave and TrueBlood on tap," she countered, sternly.

Eric winced at the thought of the TrueBlood, how he hated that stuff.

"I think then an endless supply of luxury silk boxer shorts. I shall want to be comfortable after all."

Surely with his reputation he would just go naked, Kirsty thought. She didn't say anything, as that would certainly have to be cut, but was puzzled to see Sookie clap a hand over her mouth in a gesture of surprise.

"If I were to force you to pick just one disc, if the waves were to wash away your collection, which one would you rush to save?"

"I think the Mozart. It has so much depth and complexity. It is a warning against the danger of arrogance." He looked up and gave Sookie a wink.

Leanne was making the signal to wrap up.

"Eric Northman, thank you very much for letting us hear your desert island discs."

The familiar elegiac sound of the theme music echoed around the studio as the continuity announcer read out the credits.

"_Desert Island Discs was created by Roy Plomley, the Producer was Leanne Buckle._

_Desert Island Discs is available on the BBC i-Player and is also available as a podcast. For more information go to our website…"_

Sookie came bouncing through into the studio. "You were great," she beamed, reaching up to plant a kiss on his cheek. He slipped his arms around her and turned her to kiss her on the mouth.

"It's such a pleasure to meet you as well, Ms Young." Sookie said, wriggling out of Eric's embrace. "Great questions – I thought you had him squirming once or twice."

"He wasn't the easiest of guests, but I think we got there in the end," there was a grim satisfaction in her tone as she headed to the producer's booth to review the recording.

"If I've managed to satisfy you, the Scotswoman, and Norma-Jean Baker, I most certainly count that as a triumph." Eric sounded particularly smug, earning himself a slap from Sookie. He grimaced in mock disgust, before reaching down to stroke her cheek in a tender gesture.

"I wanted to take you as my luxury, but they wouldn't let me," Eric said, his voice gentle. "Would you come, if I asked you?"

Sookie focused on the eagle claw pendant he was wearing, not wanting to meet his eyes. The request would have sounded casual to an observer, but she knew him well enough to know that it was not. A hundred thoughts crowded into her brain, all fighting for space. Quinn, her official boyfriend, who she hadn't seen for over a month; Eric, who she had almost fallen in love with when he lost his memory; Eric who had bonded with her in Rhodes to save her from Andre; Eric who made grand gestures, then virtually ignored her for weeks on end.

Preparing for this show, and helping style him for the photo-shoot had brought back powerful memories of the Eric who had stayed with her, who had acted almost human. For the first time since then she had felt that perhaps, if she was with him, they could be like a normal couple. Okay, as normal as you could be when your boyfriend was now an international celebrity, but she could cope with that. What mattered to her was that he had truly shared his thoughts and feelings with her.

The Scotswoman may not have succeeded in getting beneath the surface veneer of the badass Sheriff, but she had made some cracks. Much against her better judgment, Sookie found herself just itching to dig into them and open them up.

"I'll consider it. Just as long as you don't make me listen to Finntroll."

"That works for me. If you promise no Shania Twain, I promise no Finntroll."

_**

* * *

Eric's selection for the programme:**_

1 Shania Twain: "_That don't impress me much_" (Twain/Lange)

From the album 'Come on Over' Mercury 1997

2 _Du ar sa vacker for mina ogon' _(trad) vocalist Violina Juliusdotter

From the CD 'Andor' Per O G Runberg, AD Inexplorata 2001

3 '_Don Giovanni, A Cenar Teco_' (Mozart, Don Giovanni Act two scene five)

EMI classics (1959, digitally remastered 1997) Conductor Carlo Maria Guilini.

4 '_Zu Neuen Taten, teurer Helde'_ (Richard Wagner, Gotterdammerung, Prologue)

Decca (1997) Conductor, Sir Georg Solti

5 Johnny Cash: _'Hurt_' (Trent Reznor)

From the Album ' American IV: The Man Comes Around' Lost Highway 2002

6 Rolling Stones: ' _Let It Bleed_' (Jagger, Richards)

From the Album 'Let it Bleed' Abcko 1969

7 Louis Armstrong and the Allstars '_Dream a Little Dream of Me_" (Andre/Schwandt and Kahn)

The Ultimate Collection, Polygram 2000

8 Finntroll: 'Trollhammaren' (Tundra/Trollhorn, Wilska)

From the CD 'Nattfodd' Century Media 2004.

http(colon double forward slash)www(dot)youtube(dot)com(forward slash)watch?v=yGywo81G6lk

.com/watch?v=yGywo81G6lk

Book: 'The Prince' Machiavelli. Bantam Classics 1984

Luxury: Zimmerli Silk Boxer Shorts

* * *

This chapter was originally written as a one-shot for the "I Write the Songs" contest in October 2010. Northman Maille, Northwoman and the seven judges did an amazing job running the contest and dealing with 51 excellent entries so many thanks to them for their efforts.


	2. Chapter 2

_**This story was planned as a one-shot but Eric has been such a good boy, playing nice for his interviews and photo-shoots, that I think he deserves a night off for good behaviour!**_

**London, Wednesday evening.**

Sookie felt completely beat as she took the elevator back up to her room. She had spent a very long afternoon in a meeting between Mr Cataliades, the other advisors, and the European diplomats. Her head was throbbing from the mental effort of trying to follow a roomful of people whose thoughts were all in their native languages. She'd had to tune into the thoughts of the translators, or the English ambassador, to try to pick up any undercurrents and make sense of what was, and wasn't, being said.

She had discovered that the eastern Europeans were planning to sign up to the declaration of vampire rights, but then find ways to avoid ratification in their own countries. All except Romania - they were alive to the tourist potential. The Germans were thinking about business opportunities, and the rather glamorous young French ambassador was wondering if Eric Northman was as gorgeous in real life as he was in the photographs. She spent most of the meeting trying to think of an excuse to get him invited to Paris. The French interpreter, who was gay and very visual, gave everything away with his rather too graphic images of what he would like to do to the Viking.

She got to thinking about vampire blood as she examined the fine lines around her eyes in the mirrored walls of the lift. No one else would have noticed them, but to her they looked as deep as crow's feet. Thinking about vampire blood got her onto thinking about Eric. She had to admit she had enjoyed the limited amount of time they had spent together over the last few nights. She would happily have spent this evening with him, if only she wasn't quite so exhausted.

The thick pile carpet was luxurious as she shucked off her shoes and wiggled her stocking feet. It was the finest hotel room she'd ever stayed in; no, make that the finest room she'd ever stayed in. Even Russell's Jackson mansion and Sophie-Anne's New Orleans complex paled in comparison.

Maid service had come in and tidied up during the day, but someone else had been there too; there was a pile of boxes on the bed, topped with a letter bearing her name.

_Dear one_

It said, so she knew it was from Eric.

_Norma Jean has managed to acquire two tickets for the opera tonight. I very much hope that you will agree to accompany me. She has also brought you an evening gown to wear._

_I will call on you when I rise._

_- E –_

He had signed it with his normal flourish.

Sookie glanced out of the window. Just gone four thirty and the sun was already low in the sky. She would have time for a bath and perhaps something to eat before Eric could leave the safety of his light-tight suite and join her. She drew the heavy drapes to shut out the remaining light as a precaution against his early arrival, then turned her attention to the packages. First up was a full-length evening gown. She had never seen anything quite so beautiful in her life. The blue-grey shade matched her eyes perfectly. Grey suede kitten-heel sling-back shoes, and a grey cashmere wrap completed the outfit. The healing power of shoes, she thought with a smile, feeling better already.

She rang room service and ordered chicken soup and a chef's salad for five-thirty. She didn't want anything too heavy. She had been snacking on cookies all day, or biscuits as her hosts called them. The Brits really loved their cakes and pastries as well, and she had probably helped herself to one too many, she reflected ruefully.

The bathroom was bigger than her entire living room in Bon Temps. A huge, curved freestanding bath took up most of the centre of the room. There was a full range of luxury products, and she chose bubble bath with essential oils of rosemary and eucalyptus for a little pick me up.

As she sank into the warm water, she closed her eyes and let the fragrance sooth away her cares. She tried to summon the image of Quinn into her mind, but he wouldn't come. He was distant and indistinct. A very large, blond, vampire instead filled the place in her head where her boyfriend should be.

He'd been different somehow, these past few days. No doubt '_Dear Abby'_ would say it was because he was out of his comfort zone but he had really talked to her, instead of ordering her about or doing that taciturn controlling thing which so annoyed her. He had asked for her opinion and been genuinely interested. It reminded her of a time and a place she didn't want to think too much about. The memories were just too bittersweet.

She felt herself getting warmer, and it wasn't just the water. The bathtub was easily big enough to accommodate his six foot four inch frame and that got her thinking about the things they could do in the tub if only he were here with her. '_Shit Sookie_,' she thought to herself, '_show some self-control_.'

It just wasn't that easy. Barely a year ago she had been transformed from a twenty-five year-old virgin into a women who enjoyed regular, spectacular Vampire sex. That had been great while it lasted until her ex-boyfriend Bill, also known as 'the abjured one,' had ditched her for his database. Since then her sexual encounters had been infrequent but when they did happen, spectacular. Top of the list of those encounters were the few days she had spent with Eric, back in January. Just the thought of what they had done together set her heart racing a little faster and her lady-parts tingling.

Time to get out and calm herself down. It would be so very easy to succumb to Eric and a vacation romance, but when they got back to Louisiana she would be faced with the same old vampire politics. It wouldn't stop her going out with him tonight though. She figured she deserved a night out, after all her efforts.

A sharp rap on the door sounded just as she was wrapping the luxurious towelling robe around her. It was too early for her meal, but it was surely too early for any vampires. Much to her surprise her visitor was none other than Norma Jean Baker, who looked every inch as glamorous as she had in her human life.

"Please come in," Sookie said, politely, "I've closed the drapes so it's light tight."

"I hope you don't mind me arranging a night out for the two of you. I thought you might enjoy it."

"You thought it might get some good publicity as well," Sookie shot back, refusing to let herself be intimidated.

Norma Jean gave a slight bow of the head in acknowledgement of the truth of Sookie's words. "I thought you might like some help with your hair and makeup," she said, in a tone that was really quite sisterly.

Sookie had to pinch herself. Two year ago, if anyone had said that she would be sitting in a luxury suite in one of the most expensive hotels in London, having her hair and makeup worked on by an icon of twentieth century beauty, well she would have said they were certifiable. Perhaps her association with the vampire world wasn't all bad.

Norma Jean worked quickly and expertly, drying Sookie's hair into ringlets which she pinned up in an artfully casual updo. The effect was stunning.

"Eat your supper, then I'll do your make-up, we don't want it to smudge do we?"

It was only five twenty-five but sure enough, within seconds a knock at the door announced the arrival of room service. Sookie was almost too nervous to eat. She always felt a little uncomfortable eating in the company of vampires. Eric never seemed to mind, but she knew Bill had always disliked having to watch her.

Norma Jean busied herself steaming a few creases out of the dress, and brushing imaginary hairs off the wrap. "Hey, sweetie, you forgot this package," she said, holding up a small, tissue wrapped parcel which Sookie had overlooked in her earlier excitement. "May I?"

"Of course," Sookie replied, in between mouthfuls of the most delicious chicken soup she had ever tasted.

"My, my, Sheriff Northman is in for a treat tonight!" Norma Jean snickered as she held up a barely there pair of pale grey lacy panties with a matching bra. Her smile became more kindly as she watched Sookie blush and drop her head in embarrassment. "Don't mind me, honey, I'm only teasing. I'm just a little bit jealous you know. I met Eric Northman in Hollywood, before I was turned. He was most definitely the best lover I ever had, and I had a few as I'm sure you know."

Sookie tried not to look shocked. This was most definitely 'too much information' territory, and she didn't feel ready to venture in any further.

Luckily, Norma Jean picked up the hint. "You need to get ready now, he'll be here soon. You and I can have our girl talk some other time." She whisked out her make up bag and began to choose the exact shade of eye shadow to match the outfit.

Sookie was just getting zippered into her dress when she felt the buzz of excitement that alerted her to Eric's presence. It had been like this ever since their forced exchange of blood at the summit at Rhodes. It felt as if she was possessed, and she really wasn't sure that she liked it.

Eric was wearing a fitted silver-grey suit which not only showed off his gorgeous body, but also co-ordinated perfectly with her ensemble. He looked good enough to eat, and the look in his eyes made it clear he was thinking pretty much the same about her.

"What are we going to see?" Sookie asked as they left her room and made their way to the elevator.

"It's called _La Boheme_, have you heard of it?"

"No, I don't think so."

"I hope you will like it. You should know that most humans find it rather sad."

"Good thing I'm wearing waterproof mascara then," she joked as they made their way down to the foyer where a sleek black limousine was waiting for them to make the short journey across central London.

A couple of photographers were waiting as their car pulled up outside the main doors. Eric gallantly held the door for Sookie to get out. She was pleased she'd had some practice at getting in and out of cars gracefully. They'd both expected something like this. Norma-Jean was far too canny to give them something for nothing. Sookie plastered on her best fake smile as Eric slipped an arm around her waist, looking superior and masculine.

The thought of Quinn seeing the photos caused Sookie a brief pang of guilt, but she dismissed it. It was his own damn fault for not being here, she thought, unkindly. The truth was that she felt beautiful, and for once she felt important. Unconsciously she pulled her shoulders back and raised her chin just a notch, feeling really rather regal as people whispered and pointed.

She let her shields drop for a moment, and for once was not shocked or disappointed by what she heard. Naturally most of the comments were about Eric:

'_That's him, you know, the American vampire, what's his name?'_

'_He's so gorgeous'_

There was plenty more in that vein_. _

'_What a lucky girl.'_

'_She looks beautiful.'_

'_They look wonderful together.'_

Eric guided her to the bar and ordered a champagne cocktail. As she turned her back to survey the crowd he had a bottle of champagne and a box of Belgian chocolates sent up to their box.

Sookie couldn't help but gasp as they entered the auditorium. It was just like something out of a movie, decorated with ornate wall coverings and gilded carving. A giant chandelier hung from the ceiling. There were three grand balconies, and rows of boxes on either side of the wall. They had a private box with its own balcony and a magnificent view of the stage. She had to fight the urge to wave at the crowd. "I feel like a princess," she whispered to Eric.

It gave him such pleasure to see the _joie de vivre_ back in Sookie's eyes. He realised he had been wrong to dismiss Pam's efforts when she had encouraged him to be more considerate towards his former lover. His child was right, he had grown arrogant over the years; too used to relying on the force of his personality and his glamour to get any woman he desired. It just hadn't worked on the one he really wanted. When he returned to Shreveport he would pay more attention to Pam and that irritating advice column she was so addicted to.

Sookie became aware of the unique signature of a vampire brain close behind them. Eric didn't react, so whoever it was posed no threat. The uninvited guest took a seat in the shadows behind the side curtains. She risked a surreptitious glance behind her. The man had dark curly hair with just a touch of grey, and an extravagant moustache. He had probably been in his sixties when he was turned, which was old, for a vampire. Most makers liked their children young, she had learned.

The lights dimmed and the music started. A monitor in their box provided an English translation, but Sookie was so transfixed by the power of the music and the drama unfolding that she didn't need it. It wasn't hard to follow the tragic story of the lovers whose lives were blighted by poverty and incurable illness. There was humour too, alongside the hardship, and somehow that made the scenes feel even more real to her.

As Act one drew to a close, she felt herself shivering; so authentic was the atmosphere that the singers had created on stage. She didn't even notice until the lights came up that Eric had taken her hand and was stroking it tenderly.

By Act three she realised she had finished the better part of a bottle of champagne, and was feeling warm and giggly. Eric had taken advantage and was now stroking that sensitive spot on the inside of her wrist. The feel of his cool fingers sent jolts of electricity up her arm.

"So do you think Mimi was right, Sookie?" he asked her suddenly. "Would you abandon the one you really loved because you thought it was for the best?" He gazed at her intently, as if her response was matter of life or death. Then without warning his expression changed, a broad grin erupting over his face as he brought her hand up to his face and planted a long, slow kiss on the palm.

She was glad he had warned her about the tragic ending. She had the foresight to grab a few tissues from the hotel bathroom to dab the tears from her eyes. If they had been alone, she would have allowed Eric to lick them from her face, but that wasn't really suitable behaviour for a public place, certainly not a place as fancy as the Royal Opera House.

As they left Eric turned to the stranger in their box with a small bow of the head. "Another fine performance, Signor Puccini."

"Yes, not bad, not bad at all. I shall send a note to the conductor. Did you enjoy it my dear?" the composer asked turning to Sookie.

"It was the best thing I've ever seen," she responded enthusiastically. "I loved it."

"I hope you will find time to enjoy some of my other works, if Mr. Northman will be kind enough to take you." He gave her a low bow, as they left the box.

The streets were still busy with night revellers as they emerged from the theatre.

It must have rained during the performance, as the cobbled streets that surrounded the old Covent Garden market glistened under the streetlights.

"This place has changed," Eric commented. He described the old fruit and vegetable market to Sookie.

"You mean like in 'My Fair Lady'?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Perhaps a little, although none of the flower girls ever looked like Audrey Hepburn."

'_All I want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air, with one enormous chair, oh, wouldn't it be loverley_' Sookie sang, in a bad imitation of the only cockney accent worse than Dick Van Dyke. '_Someone's head resting on my knee, warm and tender as he can be, who'll take good care of me, oh wouldn't it be loverly'_

Eric laughed. She had been quite truthful when she said she couldn't hold a tune in a bucket with a lid on, but he didn't care. When she sang, he knew she was happy, and he wanted her to be happy. He took her in his arms and whirled her round to the music of an imaginary waltz, ignoring the flashes of the cameras around them.

He began to sing in his own rich, deep baritone: '_I have often walked down this street before, but the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before. All at once am I, several stories high, knowing I'm on the street where you live_.'

Sookie suppressed the urge to laugh, Eric's behaviour was so out of character it was hard to keep a straight face, but she didn't want to ruin what was possibly the most romantic moment of her entire life.

"Lets walk," he suggested, slipping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her out of the square and down the streets that led to the river.

"Wow, its beautiful," Sookie gasped.

"Not as lovely as the banks of the Seine, but yes, it is beautiful." At that moment he would have liked nothing more than to be able to take her to Paris, then perhaps on to Rome, and maybe Berlin; anywhere that they could be together, away from the incestuous vampire politics of Louisiana. Had he promised her this once? He had the strongest feeling that he had, but to his great frustration could not remember.

The buildings lining the Embankment were lit up and their reflection shimmered in the dirty grey river. Sookie breathed in the distinctive smell of damp autumn leaves.

"Let's sit for a moment," Eric suggested, guiding her to a bench and gallantly removing his jacket to protect her from the damp wood.

"Sookie," he said, taking her hand and looking into her eyes.

She tried to make sense of his expression as he regarded her in silence.

Before he could speak again a shabby old man ambled into view, dragging behind him a shopping trolley bulging with cardboard, plastic and old newspapers. "Spare a few coppers for a cup of tea, guv?" he asked plaintively.

Sookie scowled at him. She'd drunk too much champagne to keep her shields up, and the image in his mind was most definitely not a cup of tea.

"Make him promise he won't spend it on whisky," she said as Eric pulled a fat wallet from his pocket, and pulled out several notes. The old man's eyes went wide at the sight, then dimmed as Eric captured his gaze.

"You will spend this money on a bed for the night, and on tea only." Eric said in a low firm voice.

"Yes," the old man replied, his tone hazy.

Eric watched for a few moments as the pathetic creature wandered off uncertainly down the street, then turned back to Sookie, his expression once again totally serious.

"I want you to be my woman. End your association with the tiger, and be mine alone."

That had come out of left-field, Sookie thought, not quite sure how to react. Eric was staring at her with that deadly serious gaze that only a vampire could give. He was waiting for her answer, and she really didn't know what to say.

"I don't know what to say," she replied, deciding that honesty was the best policy. "I mean, I appreciate you asking and all, I know it's a big deal. Can you just give me a little time to think about it? I won't play games with you. I'll give you an answer as soon as I can."

That seemed to satisfy him, and he pulled out his cell-phone and barked some orders. Five minutes later their limousine arrived ready to take them back to the hotel. Sookie let Eric hold her in his arms as they made the short journey. It wasn't the most sensible thing to do, but right now it felt so good she just couldn't deny herself a few moments of comfort.

As soon as they entered the elevator Eric pulled her back against him, his arms encircling her slim waist. They both regarded their reflection in the mirrored walls. They did make a stunning couple, he thought as he lowered his head to nuzzle her neck.

"Are you going to invite me in for a nightcap?" he asked as the elevator approached her floor.

"I don't think that's a great idea, Eric, really." Not great, because she knew the minute they stepped into the room, he would make a move on her, and once he did that, her chances of resistance were lower than zero.

"We've been lovers before, why are you so determined to resist me? I know you like me."

"I do like you Eric, and I've really enjoyed this evening. I'll never forget it, even if I live to be a hundred." She tried to shrug off the thought that with the way things normally turned out for her; the chances of making it to half that age seemed slim.

"Perhaps we could do it again when we return to Louisiana. I could take you out on a date." Eric sounded a little surprised at the idea, but also rather pleased with himself for suggesting it.

Sookie couldn't help but smile. "Yes, perhaps we could, I'd like that." She meant it.

"Good, that's settled then. I am a very patient man. I know you will yield to me eventually and I can afford to wait. I would suggest though that you don't wait too long," he sounded so smug that Sookie was tempted to slap him. Instead she let him kiss her. After all what harm could a kiss do.

_**A/N Maybe it's a bit unkind to end the story with that little cliffhanger, but they have to go back to Shreveport and on into Books 8 and 9 before they finally get it together again, so I can't let them be premature.**_


End file.
